"It's who I needed to be." He knocks his boots together and watches as the snow drops to the ground. I try to move my hands but he grips them tighter. "Who are we now?"

"What do you mean?"

"A guy and a girl in a weird situation, yeah? Look at Jason and Becca. He told me he'd tried for a year to get Becca to notice him. Everything else stripped away and she did." I shiver and Nate touches my cheek. "s.h.i.t, you're cold."

"I'm okay."

"No." Nate peels off his leather jacket. "Put this on." The muscles on his naked arms flex as he drapes the jacket across my shoulders.

"You're only wearing a T-shirt, Nate. You'll freeze."

"Put it on, Riley."

I push my arms through the sleeves, engulfed by the leather scent and his strange chivalry. "Thanks."

Nate touches my face again. "Me and you. We're the same, aren't we?"

His cold fingers warm me each moment he keeps them on my cheek. I'd deny what he's saying, but this is true. Two years disappear, as do the Riley and Nate we held onto.

"Too much the same," I whisper as he moves his face closer to mine. "I think that's always been the problem."

Nate's nose brushes my cheek, his breath tickling my neck as he presses his lips below my ear. I stroke his hair and with the heat spreading from my chest downwards comes doubt. What would it mean to do this with Nate again? Can I trust him? Myself?

"Don't."

"That's not very convincing." Nate's scruff sc.r.a.pes my face as he moves to place a soft kiss on my cool lips. "Riley."

The movement of his mouth as he says my names ignites the spark, and the repressed need for Nate. I press mine back and I'm unprepared for the intensity that follows the softness. Nate kisses me, hungry and needy, and I part my lips as he holds my head to him. He crushes me against him, his strong arm around my waist. His taste, the way his tongue pushes hot into my mouth, the overwhelming need radiating from him, melts everything away.

Nate Campbell, the man I cried and l.u.s.ted after in equal measures, is doing wicked things with his tongue and lips, drawing me into him as my body floods with a longing for him to want me again. His own need is reflected in the intense grip on my hair, the desperate kiss we refuse to break. I couldn't move from him, even if I wanted to; his hands dig into my hair and hold me as tightly as the coiled desire inside.

I pull away, resting my lips on his, not wanting to break the new connection. The mist from my breath I watched before is now mingled with Nate's, confirming our step across the invisible line we drew two years ago.

I don't want this kiss to stop; maybe it's the desperation for attention, or the intensity and ease with which Nate burns through my defences, but I want this man.

So b.l.o.o.d.y much.

But I don't want him to reject me again.

"It's cold, we should go," I say.

I uncurl my hand from his neck but Nate doesn't let go, gripping my hair still.

He breathes my name and his hard lips meet mine again, devouring, taking everything he can. I don't care; I can let go, forget, and be in this moment as different people, the way Nate said.

I run my hands along his cool arms and grip the powerful shoulders beneath his T-shirt. The white world drops away, spinning us into a new place even further from the world. This last clash, different to all the others, shatters the walls between us, and we fall into a unity we've fought. Kissing Nate is natural, my body crying out for what I've denied. There's no way around this anymore, and this time there's no going back.

Finally, I break away, drawing in breath and rationality. The breath comes, the rationality doesn't.

I hold his steady gaze for longer than I've looked into a man's eyes for a long time; locked in a new place. How does this happen? How did this happen two years ago? Two people can look at each other for the first time, even the merest glance, and something unspoken pa.s.ses. It could be a stranger pa.s.sing in the street, somebody met briefly and never seen again.

Or he could be a man who came into my life, touched something I don't understand deep in my soul, and stubbornly refused to ever leave.

What do we recognise? A pull of souls who knew each other before, or a raw attraction with no explanation? When I met Nate, both happened, and in the split second it took to register each other the first time, I knew. Something connected us; a something we've spent an eternity denying because of the danger to ourselves.

"Is this a staring match?" I say in a low voice. "We've had those a few times."

Nate smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Oh yeah, and I've wanted to kiss that sour look off your face a few times just to see your reaction."

"You have your reaction."

"I sure do." He shivers and rubs his arms. "And you have my jacket. Come on."

Nate pulls me to my feet by both hands and we walk back to the pub, re-tracing our footsteps. Nate buries his hands in his jeans pockets and I push mine into his jacket. Side by side, we don't speak or touch, and my stomach lurches. Has another moment as frozen as the snow surrounding us pa.s.sed; one we'll never revisit? When we walk back inside, do we return to the old Nate and Riley?

15.

NATE.

I lie on the bed, legs outstretched, arms behind my head, and stare at the low ceiling. I'm f.u.c.king confused here. Riley taps a weak spot only she's ever found, exposing the raw nerves I've spent years attempting to protect. How? Others have tried, but Riley hit the spot from the first day. Once-over, I thought she took pleasure in pulling out this part of me and enjoying the vulnerability she found. That she used this to get a reaction from me, n.o.body else manages. Since being here and talking, I now understand. I do the same to Riley, and it scares her as much as she does me.

What else is there to do but protect ourselves? But how do we manage that when our hearts and souls are locked in a battle we can't walk away from anymore?

Three days here and the pull to her grew. Each time we spoke to one another without a b.i.t.c.hy undertone was a step back to the short period of time we behaved like normal people. n.o.body else in this building is impressed I'm a rock star; normally I'm surrounded by sycophants. h.e.l.l, even Becca never showed any interest. Riley's different too. She can't boss these people around and is out of her comfort zone. The two of us had to drop our att.i.tudes, and the side effect of this is we dropped them against each other.

Can we walk away from each other again after this?

I don't know what the f.u.c.k to say to her. Kissing Riley makes me vulnerable, my heart torn open in a way she won't understand. Maybe I need to push for s.e.x now, and match her vulnerability with mine. Riley won't want to share with the world she had s.e.x with the man she claims to hate, and I can return to denying anything exists in my heart for her.

This has f.u.c.ked with my head and I don't want her s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around with my heart as well.

I have to face Riley and tread carefully through the minefield I expect she's created since the kiss earlier.

Riley sits in the pub lounge with a gla.s.s of orange juice, twisting the gla.s.s around in her hands, brow knitted. I watch for a while, her unguarded stance at odds with the Riley I've fought with. A loose strand of hair annoys her; she repeatedly pushes it back with delicate fingers. I look at her as Riley and not the girl I've constructed in my head. My chest tightens as I look at her parted lips.

I approach and she looks up, straight into my face with no hint of caution. I'm unsure what happens next. We parted with a few mumbled words when we returned to the pub after the kiss.

"Any news on when we can leave?" I ask.

"No. George spoke to somebody earlier and the snow ploughs can now get to the village but can't drive this far yet."

"Jesus, we're in the Dark Ages." I sit on the stool opposite. Part of me had hoped this situation would be over, but a larger part wants more time alone with Riley to see what happens next.

"My sentiments exactly."

I look out of the window fighting what to say next to break the tension I'm recreating. "So, uh, Riley..." I begin.

Riley interrupts. "This time, tell me what you're thinking. I don't want to go back to the nastiness. If the kiss was spur of the moment and a mistake, tell me."

I drag a hand through my hair and look back. Her eyes are wary, and I don't know what the h.e.l.l to do or say.

"Was it to you?" I ask.

"Yes and no. After all this time, kissing you felt wrong and right at the same time."

I can't say this. I point at her gla.s.s. "I need a drink. Want one?"

"Of course you do." She smiles and the weird nervousness gripping my chests loosens. "I think I do too. I'm in shock after earlier."

I return with drinks, and Riley's texting. She hastily sets her phone face down as I sit opposite again. "Thanks."

We sit in silence for a few minutes, the crackle of the fire and Val crashing pots around in the kitchen the only sounds.

f.u.c.k it. "Riley. I have to tell you something strange."

She glances up. "Stranger than kissing me earlier?"

"Yeah. So, this is how it is." I pick at the edge of the table. s.h.i.t this is going to sound weird. "Uh. So. I don't kiss people."

A giggle bursts from Riley and she gives me a small shake of her head. "You kissed me."

"Exactly."

"No, I mean you kissed me two years ago and you kissed me earlier."

Her response p.r.i.c.kles my neck; this isn't a joke. "But I don't normally. I mean, not full on like I kissed you."

"Surely you kissed Sophia and your... other girls."

"Not really. They try but I don't want to."

"Why?"

"Like I said, don't want to."

Riley sits back and her amus.e.m.e.nt drops. "I'm going to be direct here. You don't have to answer but I have to ask. Did something happen to make you like you are?"

"Like what?"

"Like..." She wrinkles her nose. "Some kind of abuse. Is that why you're the way you are?"

"Wow, that's forward. And no, nothing like that. I'm f.u.c.ked up by a girl, that's all." I swill the contents of my gla.s.s and drink.

"That's all? Years of shutting yourself down because of one heartbreak?"

"Yeah, well you don't understand if you've never experienced it. I loved someone. They f.u.c.ked me over. Big style. I don't want to get hurt again, so I keep part of myself I don't share. There's something intimate about a kiss and-"

"And s.e.x isn't?"

"Not to me. That's physical. Feels good. Kissing is connecting, giving yourself. When you look somebody in the eyes, you're connecting on a deeper level."

Riley rubs her fingers across her lips as she searches my face. Does she think I'm lying? Why would anybody lie about stupid s.h.i.t like this? "Then why did you kiss me?" she asks in a small voice.

"Don't know. Think I wanted to connect with somebody. You. Made sense at the time."

"Okay..."

"I also see someone who understands me."

Riley stares at the table and my stomach lurches. Why am I telling her this s.h.i.t? And she's right. What is with the kissing thing? Jesus, I'm a counsellor's dream client. But kissing Riley pulled me in, held me to her. In the split second before my lips were on hers, I met her eyes and was overwhelmed. I wanted her to know me because I think she already does.

"You're telling me you have relationships for weeks and never kiss? I find that hard to believe. Kissing is the first step."

"Nah, if they don't want to skip that stage, they don't bother hanging around." I lift my eyes to hers. "That's why I don't get to screw as many girls as people think."

"I certainly wouldn't stick around."

"I reckon you don't kiss people much either."

She frowns and drinks. "No. I don't do relationships, so I don't get the chance."

"Why not?"

"Too busy." She clams up and looks away.

"You celibate these days, Riley?"

This time Riley fixes me with an intense look. "No. I'm too busy and don't want a relationship. Hook-ups work for me."

I rest my elbows on the table and lean in. "Hook-ups? How about me?"

Riley runs her tongue along her teeth and stares into the fire behind me. Surely she expected this to be my next move? "I've half-considered it since we've been here," she says in a low voice. "Because I know you won't want any more from me. Part of me knows what you said in the kitchen earlier is true. We could just give in to this, then the whole situation can be underlined and forgotten about, the way it should've been the first time."

"But you hate me."

"Do I? I kissed you." She pauses. "Do you hate me?"

I slump back and the crashing realisation we're the same person hits. "No. You p.i.s.s me off, but I don't hate you."

"And you infuriate me by being a rude b.a.s.t.a.r.d." Her mouth quirks into a half-smile.